Salka
by Penguinator27
Summary: My windows look into your living room. I spend the afternoon on top of you. I wonder what it is that I did to make you move in across the way from me. Light AU. Soon, 1xR.
1. Living Room

A/N: Oh, hi. Come to read, have you? I'm so grateful. You may or may not recognize the words from the summary. They are not my own. They are lyrics to a song, but I think they suit the story well enough. As I also mentioned in the summary, this is kind of AU. Not too much, but a little. Anyway, thanks so much for reading; I hope you enjoy it.

Salka/Living Room

It was much smaller than anything she was used to, but she knew she it would be petty of her to complain. For the first time, she would own the place she lived in. Or, rather, lease. No matter. It would be hers for at least the next twelve months and she _was_ paying for it.

She busied herself with turning on the apartment's air conditioner. The thermostat was different from the one that had been in her room at home, but she figured it out easily enough. There was a thud at the door, which wasn't unexpected. She opened it to find two of the burly moving men that had followed her car in a small moving truck; they were carrying her mattress between them, and seemed unfazed by its weight.

"Where should this go, Miss?"

"Oh—just over here." She lead them to the master bedroom in the back of the unit.

Given the amount and heft of the truck's load, it didn't take the obviously skilled moving men long to arrange her few items of furniture. Within an hour, they were both gone, each with a twenty dollar tip.

Alone in her apartment at last, Relena felt just that: alone. She tried to ignore it while she took her brand- new kitchen appliances and dishes out of their boxes, all very different from the ones she'd used at home. She worked through it as she fitted the bedding onto her full-sized mattress. It was almost too much to bear when she opened up the large Tupperware container Pagan had packed a dinner in before she had left early that morning. She swallowed the food with force, working it past the lump in her throat. But when she turned the lights out on an unfamiliar room to lie down in her familiar bed, she had nothing to occupy her but her thoughts. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she hated herself for it.

One would think that excessive crying and a day of traveling would be enough to put one swiftly to sleep. _One would think…._ Frustrated and utterly alert, Relena threw back the covers and went to the kitchen to boil water for a cup of tea.

While she waited for the whistle of the kettle, she threw herself into the grey recliner in the living room. She'd had the moving men put it closest to the window, thinking it would be good for reading light. She'd read often in the chair at home. It was something she'd usurped from her father's study a while after he'd died fifteen. It stood out as too masculine in her bedroom, but her mother hadn't argued. Relena supposed she was impressed at the pains she took to convince the gardener to help her heave it up the stairs.

When she actually sat in the chair, she realized just how large the windows were. They started a few inches from the floor and rose to within a few inches of the ceiling. She thought them impressive and large, and wondered at how she hadn't looked out of them yet. Perhaps, she reasoned, she had been too distracted. She forgot all about it as she looked through them into the Summer night. She felt dwarfed by them.

She examined the squares of light coming from behind other people's curtains in other people's apartments. The property didn't take up much land, and compensated for it with the building's height. It was all connected and built in the shape of a U. Her apartment was in one of the long sides. The somewhat narrow space between her side of the U and the other was made out to be a small courtyard with a few trees, benches, and mailboxes.

All the lights were blocked by curtains or blinds so that she couldn't see inside any of her neighbors' homes. _That's smart_, she thought, realizing that she was staring out her own windows without any such guard. She felt suddenly exposed in her tank top and shorts. Just as she was about to move back into the windowless part of the apartment, a new light stole her attention. It was brighter than all the others, because—Relena realized upon inspection—it wasn't limited by blinds or curtains, either.

The window was a few levels lower than her own, so she couldn't see straight into the apartment. She did catch a slanted view of the same kind of bland carpet that covered her own floors; a small, brown, square table with chairs; the edge of a sofa, and a sliver of kitchen tile. She assumed the layout was different because it was smaller than her own. A shadow moved over the table. _They must be in the kitchen._ The feet appeared. Black- socked feet. They were followed be jeans, then the hem of a gray shirt— a gray polo shirt, because there was a collar at the top—and then a neck, a head, and the top of brown hair. It was a man—she could tell from his silhouette—and he was looking straight out his window.

She screamed and jumped out of her chair at the loud screeching that suddenly filled the apartment, making a thud on the floor she was sure her downstairs neighbors didn't appreciate. Apologizing in her head, she stepped lightly into the kitchen and set a cup of tea to steep.

As she waited for the tea to permeate the water, she leaned against a counter, apprehensive about returning to the window. First of all, it was definitely impolite of her to spy on someone like that. Even though it wasn't really spying because she didn't even know who she was looking at, and she hadn't done it on purpose. In any case, some stranger's apartment and the goings on inside it were not her business, and it was inappropriate behavior anyway.

She thought this—she knew this—but she had no resolve. Once her tea was done she went back to her chair, taking a deep breath before looking across the way. But a few levels down, it was dark again.

A/N: Oh, hi. You finished? I'm very glad. I know it's short, but it's meant to be an introduction. I thought I'd make it longer, but once I got to this point I realized that it's perfect, (or good enough, anyway,) at this length. There's another part in the works already. Or three, rather. Now I think I'll go and quietly pine for the next chapter of Occam's Razor… or write. Whatever. Oh, yeah, I'd be grateful for your thoughts. You know, reviews and stuff.


	2. The Voyeur

A/N: I hope people read these. I haven't put 1xR yet because the story isn't there yet. But that's where it's going. Thank you for coming to the second chapter. I wish you enjoyment.

Salka/The Voyeur

A ten hour drive from her isolated, upscale home city made a big difference. Fall came earlier to the new place; people tended to mind their own business; and the university was packed. Sleep came easier with the start of school and work, when there was less time to dwell on not being at home. And with more sleep came less time to stare outside her windows at night.

Relena had discovered in her first week of sleepless nights that all her windows—which were situated on the same side of the apartment—allowed her a view of the other end of the U- shaped property. Lying flat on her stomach in bed, too drowsy to do anything constructive and somehow too alert to fall asleep, she held a blind open with her finger and watched for any movements or changes in the lights across the way. She'd never been privy to the sleeping habits of many others and was surprised that so many people were active even into the early hours of the morning.

A window of particular interest to her was the only other unshaded one, just a few levels below her own. She'd not seen the man again since that first night—not all of him, anyway. His feet made appearances often, as did his shadow coming from the kitchen. Different lights from further in the apartment shone through to the living room window sometimes, indicating that he had a television he sometimes turned on and different shades of yellow and white bulbs in other fixtures.

Relena had watched enough to know that he was awake enough at night to either be returning or leaving at a very late hour, (or early, depending on one's perspective.) Her observations had been so close that she was certain that he was alone. But when she realized that she had noticed that he always wore the same sort of black sock, she knew there was a problem.

"This little obsession is a result of boredom." She spoke to no one in particular, and her voice bounced off the walls of her unfilled apartment. "And it's unhealthy. Tonight, I'm going to sleep." _I'd better._

Her self-motivational talk came two days before the start of the semester. It resulted in a dose of night-time cold medicine that kept her asleep until noon the next day and gave her strange dreams about musical buildings.

When she checked her email for the third time the Sunday before the first day of school, she finally saw a new message. It was from Lucrezia Noin, her boss as of the next day. I was an arrangement negotiated by her older brother, Milliardo. Though she had only learned of his existence after her father's death, when she learned that she had been orphaned and adopted before she could remember it, they had forged a surprisingly easy sibling relationship. While she had been adopted by a well-to-do politician and his wife, Milliardo had run away and somehow put himself through military academies by scholarship. Apparently, he'd met Noin in one such institution.

_Call me_, the message said, followed by her phone number. Relena punched the numbers on her phone.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Noin? This is Relena Darlian. I received your email."

"Oh, good, I was hoping you'd check. I know it's late notice, but I just had a morning meeting moved to the same time as my first class."

"Oh—"

"I hate to miss my first class _ever_, but I'll need you to cover for me. Can you do it?"

"Uh, that is, I—I'm not sure I'm qualified to do that."

"I know, I'm sorry, I know you're not a class assistant, but I just need you to hand out the syllabus and give them my contact information. It's a grad class, so I'm sure they'll be well behaved."

"Okay. I'm sorry about that. Of course I'll do it."

"Thank you, so much for doing this. I'll leave the syllabi next to my office door. I'll email you the time and the room number right now."

"Thanks, Ms. Noin—"

"Please, just 'Noin.' Sorry, it's a result of military academy. What can I say?"

There was little sleep for Relena that night, for all her nerves, and she took to her chair in her darkened living room. Some people were up, but less than usual; and the most interesting occupant never turned on his lights—at least while she watched.

Along with a chill wind, the next morning was a nightmare. She struggled to find her way to Noin's office on a tiny map she'd printed out, trying to stay out of the way of people who knew where they were going. She'd meant to situate herself on campus that morning, as her classes didn't begin until the afternoon.

To her surprise, she wasn't the only one to arrive to the classroom early. There were already a few younger men seated far apart from each other in the plain room. She tried her hardest not to look at them. She took a seat at the table in front and dropped the stack of syllabi on the surface. She busied herself by reading the cover page. _'Advanced Dynamic Response'? Dear God, I'm definitely not qualified for this._

"Is this Advanced Dynamic Response?"

A tanned man with narrow eyes and dark hair was standing over the desk. She replied 'yes' without missing a beat, without really paying attention. Because it was diverted by something going on behind him; another man was entering the room, looking straight ahead, with a light step. The man who'd spoken to her passed in front of her vision just before the man she was watching seated himself. It reminded her that she was staring. She stopped—but she'd already noticed his shaggy brown hair and his dark blue eyes.

Blushing, she looked back down at the desk. It was impolite to gawk, even if someone was so good-looking. _Inappropriate._ Someone in the class had a watch that beeped, and she remembered why she was where she was. Her own watch told her it was eight o'clock—time for their first class to begin. She stood and went to the far side of the classroom, handing the stack of papers to the man sitting in front.

"If you could just take one copy and pass it down, please. You can put the extras on the desk." She tried to raise her voice like she'd heard her professors do in the past, but it bounce back to her off the bare walls sounding shaky and somewhat strained. "Unfortunately, Dr. Noin could not be here today. I'll put her contact information on board so you can—"

"Uh, this says we need the fourth edition of _Engineering Mechanics: Dynamics_. I have the second—will that be okay?"

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know. I'm actually just your professor's assistant, so I have nothing to do with this class. I'm not even a part of the Engineering Department. Like I was saying, I'll just leave Dr. Noin's contact information on the board, and you can field you questions to her."

She stretched her arm as high as she could above her head to copy Dr. Noin's email address and office hours on the dry-erase board and felt an unexpected, unpleasant tingle on her back she knew must be coming from the eyes behind her.

Halfway finished, a movement she saw in the corner of her eye made her pause to watch. The man she'd had to stop herself staring at was walking along the wall toward the front of the room. He stared straight ahead, and the only graceless, undeliberate movement about him seemed to come from the swing of the messenger bag hanging at his side. An implacable sense of recognition tingled her mind as she watched the back side of him move out the open door.

When she finished writing, she collected her things and left the class without a word, her mind on that strange man who had walked out early. _Who does he think he is? Is he above needing to know how to get help from his professor?_ She knew if she were in any sort of engineering class she'd want to memorize her professor's email.

Her obligation fulfilled, Relena followed her map to the building where the political science department was located. A meeting with her advisor was necessary to get the key to her office. The halls were quiet and narrow, and she had to explore to find Dr. Une's office.

She knocked on the door softly.

"Come in."

"Good morning, Dr. Une. I'm Relena Darlian."

"Yes, come in. Have a seat."

She perched on the edge of a chair, nervous for her first personal meeting with her graduate advisor.

"How are you finding the campus, Relena?"

"It's lovely, ma'am, but I think I'll like it better when I don't have to use a map so much."

"So it goes. I don't suppose you've been to any classes yet?"

"Not until this afternoon."

"Then perhaps we should meet at the end of the week. We'll discuss your work then, and start talking about research. How does that strike you?"

"That would be fine, ma'am."

Relena found her office on the fifth floor of the library among a sprawl of others. They were little more than cubicles, really. They had high, lurid, red walls; the doors were plastic and had long rectangular windows in them; the tops of the cubes were open to the library's ceiling.

Having little to fill the office with besides her laptop and a few notebooks, she got it in her mind after about ten minutes of sitting quietly at her new desk that she'd go to the library's atrium for a coffee at the café she'd seen on her way in.

It took some negotiating to secure the cheap lock on the door. She tried not to shake the flimsy walls in her struggle, but she guessed she was making a scene after all when she realized that someone was standing in the narrow pathway looking at her.

Turning her head sideways, her eyes came to meet those of the man she'd already seen that morning. Some chunks of his bangs covered thin sections of his blue eyes—but that did nothing to detract from his penetrating gaze.

"What?" It came out sounding more offensive and aggressive than she'd meant, but she didn't feel sorry for it. Especially when he squeezed past her to continue further down the pathway, smirking before looking away. At least, the thought it was a smirk. _Doesn't someone have to smile to smirk?_

***********************************************************************

The first month of school passed, easing Relena into a routine and developing sense of normalcy. To boot, there'd been no cause for her to tend to Dr. Noin's morning class anymore, nor had she come across anyone familiar in the vicinity of the grad student offices—the shaggy haired, blue- eyed, smirking man was scarce.

Of course, she was still employed by Noin. For approximately twenty hours a week she busied herself with making copies, processing Scantrons, posting notices around the Engineering department, and filing document request forms for her. The job was less a matter of meager pay and more a matter of busy work. Relena lived off—and probably would for a better part of her life—the inheritance left to her by her adoptive father and her biological family.

She'd actually split the value of the Peacecraft estate with her brother—a brother who told her he'd be coming to visit at the end of the week in an abrupt email that arrived around the time the Relena noticed the leaves starting to curl in on themselves. The trees in the courtyard below her windows had three-pointed leaves. She could see the change in them every day, once they started yellowing. They were a major source of distraction, especially when she hit particularly dry spots in her assigned reading. At those times, she would take to staring absently out her living room window from her chair. In the daylight the windows across the way appeared uniform, unoriginal without the distinctions of curtains and different hued lights.

It had been four months since she'd last seen her brother, so she took advantage of the Saturday on which he visited to go shopping early and make him dinner. Stark and out of place in the beige hallway outside her door, she thought he would have been more surprised if he'd arrived in plain clothes rather than the crisp uniform he wore. Contrarily, his ever long brown hair hung loose behind his shoulders, and his bangs needed clipping.

With a warm, easy hug he greeted her.

"How have you been?"

"Hmm, I've been, I guess."

He arched an eyebrow.

"So-so."

"Would you like to give me a tour?"

"I would. I guess you're the first person to see it."

"The first? You mean you don't have any friends?"

Relena shook her head.

"No boys?"

She squeezed her eyebrows together. "_No_."

"Alright, then. How about this tour?"

Relena moved throughout her house, pointing out special touches of hers and facts about her things.

" 'This is supposed to be an extra bedroom, but I only use it to study, which is why it's so plain.' 'My closet is built for two people, I think, but I don't mind the extra space.' 'I dropped my coffee pot the first week I was here, so I use a little pot and just tape down the pin, because the machine itself still works….' "

"Why haven't you put curtains up here?" He stood before the three large panes in the living room.

"Oh. I don't know, I guess I like the view."

"As a matter of safety, I would advise you to at least put some blinds up. You never know what sort of person might be looking in on you, learning that you're young and alone."

"Oh, don't be paranoid," –she ignored his scowl—"I hardly spend any time out here anyway. Listen, I went all out since I've not had a chance to cook for anyone yet—"

"You cooked?"

"Don't use that tone, Milliardo. Of course I do; how do you think I've been subsisting on my own?"

"Fine, fine."

"Right. I found a recipe for this dish, and I even bought wine. How about that?"

"How about that."

"You can have a seat out here. I'm getting the wine and the hors d'ouvres."

Relena pottered around in her kitchen, pouring wine in new glasses and arranging slices of cheese on a small plate. As she carried it out to the living room, she observed her brother at the window, staring at something in a decidedly downward direction. She intended to ask what he was looking at after she set the tray carefully on one of the couches, but he addressed her first.

"Do you know anyone else in the building, Relena?"

"Just the manager and the leasing agent. Why?"

"Not any other residents?"

"No. What's wrong, Milliardo?"

"I've seen this man before. In Istanbul, a month ago, in fact."

"What man?" Relena moved to the window, nervous for reasons she could not identify. She stood next to her brother and looked up at him. "Where?"

"Down there, in that window."

"Which one?" The sun had not yet set, and no one had turned their lights on yet. "Where?"

"That one down there, without the shades."

It was enough for Relena; her eyes shot down to the window where she hoped she'd finally see a face to match to the black socks she'd come accustomed to. The frame was empty of any body, though.

"Eh, he left."

"Oh." It disappointed Relena more than she expected it should have. She remained at the window, even after Milliardo moved away."

"You're sure you don't know anyone here?"

"Yes—who was he?"

"Definitely not a friend. Don't worry, it doesn't matter."

"What do you mean he's not a friend?"

"I said not to worry, Relena. Just get yourself some curtains, for God's sake. What's this? Brie?"

"Yes. Did he see you?"

"I'm sure he didn't."

Whether or not her cooking passed for satisfactory, she could not be sure; Milliardo ate everything without complaint. Over a desert of mixed fruit, Relena kept pouring wine.

"May I have some water instead, please?"

"Going soft?"

"No, I'm just going for drinks with Noin later."

She raised one eye in amusement. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Okay."

Being her first visitor, and her first friendly company in weeks, her stomach tightened as Milliardo prepared to leave.

"Have fun with Noin. Don't do anything I wouldn't." She said the last part with only half a heart.

"Now, don't ask that of me. I've got to have some fun on my one day off."

Relena sagged.

"No, I was only kidding, Relena." He put her hands on his shoulders. "I'm so glad I've been to see you, because I can see you're doing everything right. You've got yourself in order."

"Thanks. But you're just saying it doesn't look like I'm having an interesting time of things, aren't you."

"I didn't say that. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you."

"But I still worry about you all alone. I meant it when I said you need to cover your windows. You don't know what kind of sick men are around."

"Are you talking about the one you've seen before?"

"They're everywhere."

"Stop trying to scare me. Off with you."

"Thank you for dinner."

He hugged her firmly and she had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep everything inside.

"Have fun."

"Be careful."

She watched him until he disappeared behind a bend in the hall.

Alone, she was left to clean up the dishes of two people. But she was only one.

It was unwanted, begrudged, but not wholly unexpected when she exploded into a fit of quiet sobs when she settled into her chair in the resounding quiet and darkness of her home. The lights across the way stood out in the night, and were blurred through her tears.

She cried until she couldn't anymore. She cried until she couldn't move. Through her swollen, warm eyes she stared absently out her windows, depressing herself further by keeping her promise to her brother by staying invisible despite the bare window. All the lights were out, so she sat close without any concern.

When the emotional exhaustion caught up to her body and she began to feel drowsy, she lifted her head to take in one final account of the lights across the way. In her distress she hadn't noticed—and she could have hit herself for it—that the object of her special interest's light was on. With shadows. And feet. And activity.

She pitched forward in her chair, as if being a foot and a half closer to the window would make a difference in her view. He was doing something in the kitchen, judging from the movement of his shadow and his feet. She looked to the table. There were several black, irregular shaped pieces spread out across the table—she looked away, uninterested and unable to identify them.

A gasp escaped her when he sat down at the table and she got her second full view of him. _It's been a long time coming._ Her view revealed little of the man's features, as he was hunched over the things on the table. He picked them all up and put them down again while she watched him confidently from her dark distance.

What she paid attention to was the profile she was able to discern with much scrutiny. The shape of his chin, his nose, his…hair. Dozens of images came to her mind to rest alongside her view of his bangs in profile: the stock-still silhouette in a window; black socks moving across a carpet; a belligerent and ambivalent grace; a strange smirk outside her office.

The man across the way stood, the pieces on the table gathered and assembled, and put his hand on the object on his table. _I know who… he's…._ Her eyes moved from the black socks at the floor, to the gun under his hand, up to the bangs that hung over his forehead. In recognition, at last.

A/N: This was a little longer than I intended, and it's got me thinking that the entire piece will be a little longer than I originally planned. But I think it's going to be okay. But let me just tell you that I'm definitely feeling iffy about this, and I'd really appreciate some feedback. Is something not working for you? Is there anything you have to say about—well, anything about it? Because I feel like I'm shooting in the dark the entire time I write this. Thanks a bunch for reading. –Penguinator27 1/10/09, 11:48 pm.


	3. Fixation Adjustment

**Notice!:** To my dear reviewer(s) who caught an unforgivable mistake, I thank you. Of course Zech's hair isn't brown! How could anyone do that? Just a typo, I assure you. I'll go back and fix it at my convenience. Also, reviews have been especially interesting to read for this story because of all guesses people have made at what might be going on; no one's hit it yet. Sorry. But it boosts my confidence a bit to know I'm not writing something so predictable. Also, questions about Relena's character have been raised, which have been helpful. As a writer, you know things in your head that you forget other people don't know. But I've tried to address those concerns in this chapter—with grace, hopefully.

**Salka- chapter 3- Fixation Adjustment**

"It's all my fault, you know."

"Of course it isn't, Mother."

"Yes, it is. I always insisted on keeping you in the same system of private schools. That's why your father was always going away on those horridly long business trips; I refused to relocate because of it!"

"Mother—"

"And we can't pretend that you actually wanted to go to college in your home town."

"I did—"

"I guilted you into not leaving me, and you let me—I'm so sorry—"

"Mother—"

"It's no wonder you've not made any new friends—I've not given you much of a chance since you were five!"

"Mother, if you don't let me speak I'm hanging up."

Silence.

"Thank you. Geez, Mom, I wouldn't have called if I knew you were going to get like this. You're blowing this way out of proportion."

A stifled sob sounded on the line.

"I just mean that you're over exaggerating. I made lots of friends outside of school when I was at home." She bit her lip, groping for a way to continue the reassurance. "It's just a bigger place here; more people to sort through, you know?"

"But, dear, it's the beginning of November; you've been there since July. And you hardly call. I miss our talks. I was thinking that it was okay if I didn't hear from you because you were occupied with your work and a social life. But you're not—you're _lonely_."

"I'm not lonely, Mother."

"Hmm?"

"I have classmates, and I see my boss every day. And I'm studying very hard. I'm fine, Mom."

"I should come visit."

"No. Mother, do you remember what your therapist said about separation? That it's natural and that you need to deal with it? Not only for yourself?"

There was another sob on the line, unmasked this time.

"Mom, calm down, please. I'll be back home at the end of next month, remember? Now, I'm going to hang up so you can get a hold of your therapist. Call him right now, and don't put it off, because I'm going to call him this evening to check."

Relena's mother agreed in a watery warble, followed by, "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Mom."

She disconnected the call and stood up from her chair, shaking her arms out. "Helpless…."

She felt guilty for saying it right away. Her mother's already clingy nature had increased tenfold with the passing of her father. Being without her mother had proven to be both a plus and a drawback of moving away.

It hadn't been wholly a lie when she told her mother she wasn't lonely. Certainly, she felt it—but it was something she'd begun to savor to the point of enjoyment. Amidst an involved mother and a multitude of life-long friends she had experienced certain senses of 'lonely,'—but never solitude. And she was beginning to like solitude.

In the sprawling crowds of the university she was not obligated to greet anyone. Time not spent working or in lectures was her own. No one knew her name or had been an attendee of her father's funeral. And—anyway—she had come to study, not to socialize.

Of course, she wasn't a recluse. Noin spoke to her every day, Miliardo kept in contact, and she had lots to say in discussions with her peers. Still, she nearly felt pleased at the introvert she had become.

The thought surfaced again in her mind on the Wednesday of that week—and it was not pleasing.

"Noin, I know it's my job, but I want to tell you I can't."

"Relena, it's no big deal. You give them the packets and you go, all right?"

"It's uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? Relena, they're two dozen half-educated sheep."

"How unkind."

"You _will_ do this."

Silence.

"I'll leave the stack in front of my office."

"Alright."

Standing in front of the class only bothered her a little bit; she was more concerned with someone _in_ the class.

Since the night she'd glimpsed him across the way with a gun on his table—and recognized him—she hadn't only bought curtains, but she had stopped staring out of all her windows. Her obsession was dead. Despite the fact that she knew what kind of socks he wore and recognized the angles and arcs of his hair, she did not know him. It struck her that she didn't really know anything about anyone behind the windows across the way—and the memory of the gun on the table made her feel it might be better if she didn't.

Furthermore, her brother's warning after seeing the man for himself came back to her. Miliardo hadn't frightened her then, but she had seen to it herself. It occurred to her that he might have seen her, too—be it on that night or any other. Then again, he was incredibly cavalier about assembling a fire-arm next to an open window if it _was_ the case that he had seen her. Circular reasoning tormented her.

Whether he would recognize her if she saw him again was something she didn't care if she ever found out. And avoidance was the key to that.

Yet at eight on Thursday morning, she sat in front of Noin's Advanced Dynamic Response class, looking down at the desk's weathered, aluminum surface. She supposed she shouldn't let them wait. She stood.

"Dr. Noin could not avoid missing today's class," she knew she didn't look natural, "but she would like you all to take a packet—" even for being nervous she knew she couldn't be acting natural— "which contains the parameters of Module 2," her eyes darted around, looking for something comfortable to rest on that wasn't him, "and compose a full analysis with proofs," she felt nauseous, "for discussion next week."

With her hand she patted the stack on the desk, and everyone stood slowly to pick copies up.

As she swung her bag over her shoulder she felt someone tap her arm. A man she recognized was standing in front of her, clenching his fists—he had asked her what class he had come to the first time she'd filled in for Noin.

"Hi."

"Uh, hi. Sorry if this is weird or anything, but I just thought I'd introduce myself as long as you'll be showing up now and then."

"Oh, okay." She saw him approaching the desk and tried to focus all her attention instead on the man in front of her.

"I'm Eric Reyes." He held out his hand. She took it and he shook it gently.

"Relena Darlian."

"Nice to meet you. So, you're not in the Engineering Department?"

"Oh, no, I'm in Political Science."

"Oh, I see. Still cool. Do you guys have as many classes as us?"

"No. I think Polysci's more theoretical, and Engineering is more practical, so it—"

"Makes sense."

"Yeah."

"So, you wouldn't happen to have a class _right now_, would you?"

She swiveled her eyes around to make sure they were the only ones left in the room; they were. "Um, no, I don't."

"Cool. Hey, if you want—and you don't have to if you don't want to—maybe we could go get some coffee."

"Sure."

They walked together through the halls and out of the building without being able to talk for the crowds they had to weave through. Relena looked around her as much as she could to make sure he wasn't waiting for her anywhere. The possibility of a sort of ambush had not occurred to her until just then. She tried to stick closer to Eric. She knew what he was ultimately getting at with his introduction, but—though he was nice enough in addition to being a perfect ruse to avoid a confrontation with someone else—she was sure she didn't want to have coffee with him as badly as he did with her.

When they got outside Eric didn't speak and Relena kept glancing around them.

"So, do you mind if we go to the union for coffee?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"I prefer the place there, don't you?"

"Uh, no. I usually go to the one in the library. It's more convenient because I have an office there- don't you?"

"Yeah, but I also have a space in the lab building. I like it there and it's close to the union, so…."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Yeah. And they serve more stuff there than in the library."

"Really? Like what?"

"Um—lemon bars, bubble tea—"

Relena didn't hear what else they had because Eric abruptly stumbled and pitched forward, landing on his hands and knees. Having a feeling she knew what was happening, she held her breath and spun around in the space of a second.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry—didn't mean to knock you down." A man Relena _didn't_ know was leaning over behind Eric, gasping for breath. She exhaled, relieved it wasn't who she thought it would be.

"Yeah, what's your problem?"

"I was trying to catch up to you—we need to hurry."

Eric stood and straightened out his jacket. "What for?"

"There's been an explosion in the lab building—our floor!"

"What?"

"Yeah, Miranda just called me. We've got to make sure the models are all right!"

"But—" he looked at Relena, "they're not going to let us in if there's been an explosion."

"We need to _find_ a way in; what if there's a fire? We need to get the models out of there!"

"But—" he looked at Relena again, but his friend grabbed his shoulder and dragged him down the sidewalk at a run. He craned his neck around while he ran further away, shouting something that Relena couldn't hear, but that looked an awful lot like "See you later."

Only a little shell-shocked from the commotion that'd had nothing to do with her, she turned in the opposite direction, her new destination her office.

The atrium was still packed with students done with the first morning session by the time she got there. Having already been put in the mood for coffee, she joined the trailing line at the café and promptly spaced out.

She slipped out of her uncharacteristic daze when the back of the girl in front of her turned into a bored-looking barista.

"Tall Americano, please."

"Room?"

"A little, please." She handed over the money and went to join the others milling around the bar counter.

In her jacket pocket her phone buzzed the pattern of an email alert. The barista at the espresso machine was moving fast, so she decided to wait until getting to her office to see who it was from.

She was not looking for anything in particular—it felt like a convulsion, in fact—when she turned her head to the left. But it was definitely voluntary when she turned her head away; she'd moved so fast that a strand of her hair had swung around and hit her face. Only feet away stood the man she'd been so keen to avoid that morning. At first, she meant to make a break for it. But no—that would draw his attention her. Then again, if she stayed, he might have time to recognize her anyway, in which case she would not have a head start on getting away.

The barista at the counter was looking at her strangely. _Calm down. You're drawing attention to yourself anyway. _She turned her head in the opposite direction of the man next to her. She took a breath, which was lucky, because it kept her from grasping when he touched her arm.

Turning her head slowly this time, she met with a sickening feeling his arched brows and cynically bemused eyes.

"I think that's you they're calling." He withdrew his hand and gestured to the bar counter where two paper cups were waiting to be picked up.

He turned and walked to the counter, snatching up one of the lonely drinks. She didn't follow, deciding instead to wait for him to clear out of the café area before going for her own cup. As she trounced up the flights of stairs to the fifth floor it occurred to her that he must have been behind her for the whole wait in that long line, if his drink was the one called after hers. Without stopping her progress, she berated herself for not keeping up a better watch in a potentially risky situation. _Risk?_ Twice in under an hour she'd come in close contact with a man who was probably dangerous—but whether or not he knew what _she_ knew about him, he didn't seem to have any ill intentions toward her.

_Paranoid._ With disbelief and the beginnings of self-loathing, she thought that maybe her mother was right about her needing more contact with people.

As she popped up the last stair and headed in the direction of the cube-offices she looked up just in time to see a familiar head of hair disappear behind a corner.

Feeling pettishly tormented and hungry, she knew then that more than contact with other people, she needed to know more about him.

************************************************************************

Though she hadn't expected the email to be from Noin, she felt lucky that it was and jumped on the opportunity posthaste.

She punched in a message on her phone's qwerty keyboard: "Class went fine, thanks for asking. May I call you this evening? Have a question about a student. Also—aren't you supposed to be in a meeting?"

On her trips downstairs for a refill, for a book of potential use, and to the print station she didn't see him once. And for all the interest she had in him, it was surprisingly easy to keep from preoccupying herself with it.

It _did_ cross her mind, though—as she gathered her things to head out to her late afternoon class—that she and this man likely spent their days in the same group of offices, not very far apart, and their evenings in the same building, close enough to see.

Later, in the quiet and dim light of her living room, she sat upright in her chair with her phone to her ear, waiting for Noin to

"Pick up."

"Hello," she said it almost like a song.

"You're in a good mood."

"Yes. And you?"

"Fine. I hope I'm not calling at a bad time—did you get my email?"

"Uh, yes. I was wondering when you'd call."

"Sorry, I had a—"

"I know who you're going to ask about."

"You do?"

"The quiet, mysterious—"

"No!" She was right on the money; how had she known? "Uh, no. Eric Reyes—I wanted to know about Eric Reyes."

"Huh? Eric…Reyes. Ah—dark guy, on the shorter side?"

"He's my height!"

"But that's who you're talking about?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, I don't think he's been in the program that long. He's into prosthetics, I think. Probably about your age."

"Oh. Okay."

"Why do you ask?"

"Uh, he introduced himself—"

"I'll bet he did."

"—just curious."

"Uh-huh."

"Ah, who was that other one you were talking about?"

"What other one?"

"Quiet, mysterious…."

"Oh, right. Heero Yuy."

"That's his name?"

"Yes, now _he's_ something to look at—"

"Noin, he's your student!"

"I didn't mean for me! For you."

"What?"

"I know him. He's very talented, almost done with his research, and I'm certain he's single. He'd be an excellent distraction for you."

"Wha—distraction?"

"Yes, ma'am. Surely you want to do more than your stuffy work and make photocopies and deliveries for me?"

"No, I—well yes, but—" she took a breath. "Not that I'm interested in the fact, but how would _you_ know that he's single?"

"Just because of all the work he does. I think he does some freelance consulting on the side, but he's been published twice in the last year, and he has a very ambitious project going. I don't know how he could possibly have time for something so personal as dating."

"Oh."

"You want me to introduce you?"

"How do _you_ know him?"

"I've been advising him on something he's been trying to get funding for."

"I see." She moved the curtain next to her slightly aside to get a quick look at Heero Yuy's window. It was dark. "You don't have to introduce me, Noin; it's not like I want to date the guy. I was only curious. I think I've seen him somewhere before."

"Fine, fine. By the way, I wanted to see if I could get you to put a lecture on some slides for me tomorrow. I've already got the text down."

"Certainly. Email the notes tomorrow morning and I'll send the presentation over by noon."

"Ah, maybe I could fax them; they're handwritten."

"Of course they are, boss. Don't bother with faxing them; I'll pick them up in the morning."

"Thanks, Relena."

After she hung up with Noin, she didn't get out of her chair right away. She looked outside again; still dark. She really didn't want to date him, like she'd said. She impulsively looked out again. She wasn't obsessed anymore, either. She knew where he lived, where he studied, the color of his socks, the intensity of his work, the curiosity of his hair, and now—his name.

In the quiet that surrounded her, she decided to disturb it. Taking notice of the ways the foreign words made her mouth move, she said his name out loud for the first time.

**Note:** Ah, there's chapter three for you. It was written in bits and pieces, but I hope it doesn't feel that way when you read it. I think this was shorter than the last two chapters, but I'd like to think of it as a segue into the story's action. I promise that in the next chapter—which shan't take _too_ long to post—that they will meet. And that other stuff will happen. ^_^ Thank you so much for reading. Drop me a line, too; it's so lovely to hear from everybody.


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